All In
by Jessica237
Summary: He knows it's a huge gamble for her, a risky roll of the dice with nothing less than her heart on the line. KD, post 4x03.


**Title: **All In  
**By:** Jessica  
**Pairing: **Kensi/Deeks  
**Rating:** T  
**Timeline: **Post 4x03, The Fifth Man.  
**Summary: **He knows it's a huge gamble for her, a risky roll of the dice with nothing less than her heart on the line.

For the always fabulous Angèle, for sticking by me, literally listening to me whine, and who now must post 10K on _her_ birthday, since I'm posting 10K on mine. ;)

* * *

_"We always know where our teammates are, Deeks. Always." _

Those are the words that echo in his ears as he slips back into the darkened mission more than three hours after he'd originally left. The solemn hush of night has long since enveloped the Spanish hacienda, and though he's been here several times long after the last of the souls have drifted out, Deeks still finds himself surprised by the sense of quiet calm that fills the air. It's so vastly different from the loud, nonstop action of daylight, action that still tends to leave his head spinning and his feet struggling to catch up.

He cherishes this quiet, most nights. He knows a coworker or two (_Sam_, though he's not naming any names) are a bit put off by it; a bit unsettled by the shadows the low lights cast upon the walls, but Deeks…he's been known to reclaim his desk at the latest of hours to finish up a report or two.

But that's not why he's here tonight.

No. Tonight, he's here because he _always_ knows where his teammate is. His _partner_. His Kensi. And though he hadn't known for certain, when he'd sent her a text she hadn't replied to, instinct had suggested exactly where he might find her.

And the presence of her car in its usual place had sealed the deal for him.

If she wants him to go, he'll leave, he tells himself. No questions asked. None. Nada. He'll turn right around and walk away.

But oh, that promise is oh so hard to keep when he finds her in the bullpen, just off to the side by the lockers. Hidden in the shadows, she rests her forehead against the cool metal door of one of the lockers (the cool metal door of _his_ locker, he notices) while the one beside it, her own, stands open. In the back of his mind, he's got a quip about how it's in just as much in disarray as the drawers of her desk (and her car and her apartment and her _everything)_, but right now, he just can't seem to force it to his lips.

After two years at her side, at her back, Deeks likes to think he knows her better than anyone else. She's got the toughest shell around her that he's ever seen, but he likes to think he's found the cracks in it. He likes to think that he's somehow managed to weasel his way through her walls, and he likes to believe that he's still there (and alive) because she can't bear the thought of getting rid of him.

(He's certain he'd leave behind an irreparable void, anyway.)

But that, well, that's not what's important right now. Because right now, she's leaning against the lockers with her shoulders slumped and her gaze downward, her posture filled with something Deeks can only attest to seeing once or twice in his strong, beautiful yet deadly partner: surrender. Defeat. Grief. And Deeks is certain that the only reason he's seeing it now is because she has no idea he's there.

She thinks she's alone.

She thinks that's the only time she can let her emotions bubble to the surface.

And that tugs at his heart more than Deeks can bear.

For a brief moment, he ponders a quiet escape because he feels as if he's intruding on an intensely private moment – something he's not meant to see. She likely doesn't realize he's there, but if she does, Deeks knows her plan of action would be to ignore him, to pretend as if he wasn't there, that he's not witnessing this momentary weakness in her strong, impenetrable shell. And he hates that terribly, but then again, that's his Kensi. That's how she operates.

But God, the thought of her hurting alone just about kills him, and walking away from her when it's oh so obvious that she's upset? She can threaten him with the worst kind of physical pain she can inflict, but in the very depths of his heart, Deeks is certain that walking away from her without knowing she's okay would hurt a thousand times worse.

The seconds stretch on like hours as he silently argues with himself, weighing the pros and cons of all of his options…though, in the end, he knows it's all for nothing because he knows he can't just leave,despite the promises he's already made to do exactly that. He just can't, and irritated though she might be, he likes to hope she realizes it's because he cares (and God, just how much he cares for her…maybe a bit too much) and not because he wants to push.

After another couple of moments, silent except for a quiet, barely audible sigh that just _breaks_ his heart, Deeks decides what's best is probably what _he_ does best. So even though it's a hollow way to try to break the tension in the air, if his lame attempt at humor can make her smile or laugh or even just make her feel the tiniest bit better, then he's okay with that. "How come you're hiding all alone in the dark, Princess?" he probes quietly, a gentle, teasing tone to his voice. "I know you're still upset but come on, I _did_ promise I'd take you to Vegas with me next time…"

It works. A soft snort of laughter slips from her lips, but while the amusement is genuine, the sound is still heavy with the opposite emotion. She lifts her head but still doesn't attempt to face him; instead, Kensi brings a hand very quickly to her face, her fingers brushing at her eyes. It's discreet and he's obviously not meant to see it, but he does.

He doesn't say anything, though, simply allowing her to follow his lead. "I'm still not going to Vegas with you," she retorts, though the usual spark in her voice is missing. "Or Australia, or Jordan, or the Amazon, or Norway, or any other ridiculous place you keep making plans to drag me to."

"Yeah, that's why you remember them all. And with striking clarity, if I might add."

"Only because you remind me every chance you get."

He smirks. "Because I don't want you to think I'm backing out on my promises," he replies smoothly. "I'll take you anywhere you want to go - starting with Vegas." He pauses for a beat. "Pack your bags, Lady Luck, I'll take you tonight."

It's so lame, yet so very Deeks that despite the dark clouds hovering above her, Kensi can't help but smile softly. "You might want to rethink that," she suggests quietly, replaying in her memory the events of the evening. "Considering that I spent most of the night getting my ass kicked over and over at poker by an eighteen year old girl – I'm not feeling very lucky."

Deeks shrugs. "Well, you know what they say – bad luck's gotta turn around sometime, right?" His partner gives a thoughtful hum and he smiles playfully. "I'll even be your good luck charm if you want…"

He expects another playful retort, the kind that they always manage to throw back and forth at each other, no matter what. It's just what they do, and it wouldn't be the first time she's chosen to cling to the superficial banter rather than reveal what's really lurking underneath. But this time, she doesn't – she'd been willing to at first, he'd noted. Not now, and he can pinpoint exactly where she'd given up the charade.

He knows exactly what she's thinking about. Quietly, Deeks makes his way fully into the bullpen; when he speaks again, his words are soft, gentle. Tender, even. "How is she?"

_Astrid_. "She's fine," Kensi answers, attempting a nonchalant shrug – she knows she's not fooling him, though. Doesn't mean she can't _try_. "She's uh, she's with Hetty," she continues, closing her eyes. The ghost of a smile touches her lips for a moment; perhaps Hetty would have more luck playing against the teenager – Kensi hadn't been able to win a single hand. She would have loved to stick around, knowing the two of them were likely the best of the best at poker.

However, she'd needed to escape. Hetty always had a knack of popping in at just the right moment, and this had been no exception. She'd been so grateful for the chance to duck out of the boatshed, though at the same time she'd been torn by the thought of abandoning Astrid.

But then again, there's been an awful lot of people who've simply walked out of Kensi's own life, without even a single glance back. Some were taken from her; others left of their own volition, and some days, Kensi's not entirely sure which hurts more.

Either way, she's left with an unbearable sense of loneliness. Cold, dark, hollow loneliness chilled by the ever present cold wind, blustery gusts that fill the emptiness with the truth she's been trying to escape from for years – no matter how hard she tried, no matter how tightly she held on, she'd never been able to make them stay.

Her father, Jack, countless others.

For reasons she can't currently comprehend, she'd wanted to protect Astrid from that.

She tries oh so desperately to silence the voice in her head, the one that accuses her of doing the same thing now. She hadn't _left_ Astrid, she reasons. She'd simply needed some time to think, to re-patch old wounds that'd been opened today as if they were fresh.

She'd just needed to get out.

And she'd ended up back at the mission.

Home simply hadn't been an option. It's silly, she thinks, utterly ridiculous, because this just isn't something that should bother her. When the barista leaves the whipped cream off her coffee drink; when the doughnut shop is out of her favorite cream-filled pastry; when she has to listen to her partner play the drums on every possible surface inside the car – _those_ things bother her.

But going home to an empty, dark home every night? That's never bothered her before.

Tonight, though, she hadn't been able to do it. Her own private sanctuary, with a freezer full of ice cream and a DVR full of bad tv waiting for her; the comfort of her clutter, the relaxation of a hot shower and the warmth of her bed…all the things she looks forward to at the end of the roughest of cases and tonight…she simply couldn't see the peace in all of that.

Tonight, she's burdened by memories, some from the distant past, some not so distant at all. They'd been clawing at the door all day, but it was only as she'd left the boatshed, as she'd stepped into the cool California night that they were finally able to break through her strongest defenses.

She'd sat in her car for half an hour, lost in thought, contemplative. Without Astrid to distract her; without a impossible-to-win poker game to command her attention, Kensi had found herself unable to stop her thoughts from drifting. She'd _wanted_ to go home – she's exhausted and irritated and a handful of other things she can't name, but deep inside, she'd known that home would offer her more pain than comfort tonight.

When she was fifteen, she'd come home to a dark, empty house after her forbidden movie date with the boyfriend she wasn't allowed to have, and despite the steady trickle of people in and out over the next few days, that house had never again felt anything other than empty. Her father, the hero she'd looked up to since before she could even remember, was never coming home again, and that knowledge had turned the cozy two-story house into the very definition of loneliness, of grief-stricken emptiness. It had suffocated her, sending her to the streets because _anything_ had to be better than that.

And then years later, she'd come home to an empty apartment, several months after the worst Christmas morning of her life, after it had finally hit her that Jack too was _gone_, and there was nothing she could do about it. _Nothing_. She'd broken her lease five months early just to get out, because that apartment, filled with all the reminders that she simply hadn't been _enough_ for Jack, had become the very definition of helplessness and despair, of inadequacy and true, unadulterated heartbreak.

She'd been crushed by it twice already; she'd let it nearly kill her twice in her life. Kensi wouldn't – _couldn't_ – let it consume her for a third time. So she'd ended up here under the guise of finishing the usual case paperwork and maybe indulging in a short, stress-busting workout.

Needless to say, she'd accomplished neither.

She'd come here hoping to avoid the loneliness; to avoid the presence of her father's service medal tucked safely in her dresser, his sniper journal, open and bare on her desk; to avoid the sound of her personal computer alerting her to another message to her dating profile, another message she'll just delete because Kensi Blye can't get close; to avoid the glimmer of a diamond, suspended on a silver chain hidden snugly away in her jewelry case. She'd come here to avoid all that; instead, she's found herself ruminating over all of it anyway.

Small trinkets filled with memories, some beautiful, most tainted with heartache, all reminding her that those little pieces are all she has left of the people she's let herself grow close to.

And really, she hates it, because that fear never really dies; she hates herself for being cautious, but part of her is afraid that if she opens that door completely to her mom, the exact same thing will happen and Kensi will be left with nothing more than the few evenings and weekends they've shared over the past few months.

And then there's her partner…

She's convinced that's a disaster waiting to happen, because she certainly hasn't _allowed_ him to force his way into her life the way he has. She's tried to keep him at arms' distance, at the very least. And yet, it had hurt like _hell_ when she'd nearly lost him; when he'd nearly left her alone in a cold, sterile hospital hallway with nothing but his badge and his watch left for her to hold onto.

But perhaps it's best not to think of that, of _him_ at all, because that's all just far too complicated. It's complicated, the fact that she wants to push him away to stop him from getting too close, but at the same time secretly hopes he _doesn't_ let her push him away; it's complicated that he's the one she texts whenever the silence just gets to be too much, whenever she needs somebody, anybody to put a smile on her face. And it's especially complicated because she's been with NCIS for years now; she's known Callen and Sam for years, and yet, the one person in her life who she trusts the most, she's known for only a fraction of the time she's known them.

On some level, she'd known he'd probably seek her out tonight. It hadn't played into her decision of coming here instead of going home, but Kensi thinks it's probably better that he's found her here rather than there. "I thought you went home hours ago," she says finally, breaking the silence that's grown much too heavy.

"You _should_ have gone home hours ago," he counters.

Kensi shrugs. "Touché."

He can't help but smirk. "We need to find you a new favorite word."

He wants her to smile; wants her to fire back some clever (or likely _not_ clever) retort, but all she does is merely shrug again. That's just not acceptable for him, and neither is the silence that he's sure she'd allow to swallow them both, so he takes a deep breath and jumps in, knowing full well that if she's not willing to talk, she _won't._

But they don't _have_ to talk, he reasons. Not about this, if she doesn't want to. "So I was thinking about grabbing a burger or something," he suggests, casually crossing his arms. "I'm starving, and I know if _I'm_ starving, you have to be _ravenous_." But Kensi doesn't answer, doesn't even acknowledge the suggestion of food and for a moment, Deeks wonders if the words had actually reached her ears. Cautiously he takes a step toward her – there's still several feet of space between them; not enough for her, likely, but too much as far as he's concerned. Clearing his throat, he tries again, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears as it fills the air. "I can stop by that 24-hour doughnut shop that you like, if you want."

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, though it's anything but amused. In actuality, it's really more agonized, the sound like a dagger to Deeks' heart. That's nothing, though, compared to the quiet words she utters, quiet words heavy with the unmistakable sound of unshed tears. "I'm okay, Deeks. And I think I just need you to – I think I just need a few minutes to myself, okay?"

She'd changed her request mid-sentence, but it's no secret to Deeks just what she'd wanted to ask. In turn, he wants to ask her how she can possibly expect him to do what she wants: leave as if there's nothing wrong. He wants to ask how she can expect him, as her _partner_, to just turn around and walk away when she's crumbling, when it's clear that just standing on her own is depleting a massive amount of her will and energy.

But he's at a loss. He'd come to check on her, to make sure she was alright, but Deeks hadn't really planned for anything beyond that. He knows she doesn't _need_ him; she's Kensi Blye – she doesn't need _anyone_.

It stings, but it is what it is. With a sigh, he reluctantly accepts it; what else can he do? "You uh, you know if you need anything…"

"Yeah."

It's simple, it's clipped, and it's just a bit cold, really. "Okay," he says quietly. "Okay…"

He waits for a moment, and briefly Kensi thinks maybe he's going to fight, maybe he's not going to let her push him out. Maybe he's going to press, maybe he's going to _insist _on sharing dinner – after all, she can't count the number of times she's turned around and found him there, long after she'd tried to send him away.

It's infuriating, really.

But at the same time, it's something else…

She never gets to complete that thought because after a moment of excruciating silence, she's hearing his footsteps on the ground. She closes her eyes; it doesn't take long for her to realize that they're growing fainter, not clearer.

He's actually leaving.

He's actually walking _away_.

An icy block of regret sinks into her stomach then. Part of her wants to call out to him, to make him turn around. Part of her wants to make him stay. Part of her doesn't want him to _let_ her drive him away. Her throat tightens and her eyes begin to burn as she realizes she would never be able to find her voice to call out to him. She's got too much damned pride to allow herself to do that.

She's a Blye, and Blyes don't back down.

Blyes don't change their minds.

Even when letting her partner walk away now feels just the same as everyone else she's let walk out of her life; everyone she's forced out of her life because clearly being alone was _so_ much better.

Being alone was never supposed to hurt like this, though.

It was supposed to _protect_ her. Her heart.

How could it _possibly_ hurt this much?

Deeks is almost to the door when he hears the sound that's the end of his retreat; the sound that completely destroys any determination he'd had to give her the space she wants. It's quiet, so quiet that it barely registers, but once he realizes what it is, he _knows_ he can't leave. He _can't_, not after hearing her quiet, solitary sniffle.

He knows full well that she can always make good on her promise to leave him curled on the ground begging for mercy if he defies her, but even knowing that, he just can't walk away now. So he goes back in, his steps louder, more deliberate than before. He tosses his keys lazily on top of his desk; they land with a clatter that echoes loudly through the empty bullpen, loud enough that there's no way Kensi can pretend he's not there.

He crosses his arms, waiting. When she doesn't acknowledge him, Deeks sighs, knowing he's going to have to jump first. "Kens…"

"I said I'm fine, Deeks…" she murmurs. "I'm fine."

She's anything _but_. _Fine_ would be if she was in the gym, giving the heavy bag the beating of its life. _Fine_ would be if she'd answered his text in the first place; _fine_ would be if she was on her way home to unwind with that new drama show she's become obsessed with (it's terrible, utterly _awful_, but at least it's not her typical reality fare, Deeks thinks).

_Fine_ would be a thousand and one other things, but one thing he knows beyond all doubt is that what he's seeing right now…this is _not_ fine. She's not fine, and there's not a damn thing she can say or do to make him believe it. Not right now.

But he holds back, merely nodding and offering the same reply he'd given her earlier. "I know."

"Then why are you still here?"

She can't be serious, he thinks. She _can't._ Shaking his head, he perches casually on the edge of her desk, watching her. "I sent you a text earlier," he says simply, choosing not to delve further than that. Not now, at least. "You didn't answer it."

"Oh." She shrugs. "I didn't get it."

Deeks throws a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "I could have been dying," he quips, pleased when the playful comment puts the tiniest of smiles on Kensi's lips, even if for only a second. "I could have been lying in a ditch somewhere, desperate for my partner to come and save me."

"Yeah, you've tried that trick before though. You're a bit like the boy who cried wolf."

"You're supposed to worry about me."

"I worry for your sanity, sometimes."

He chuckles quietly – she's told him that much time after time; it's nothing new to him. What _is_ new, and what he doesn't like at all, is the lack of a grin at her lips or a sparkle in her eyes as she says it. She's still teasing him, but he knows she's only doing it because it's what they _do_. It's what they've always done, rain or shine, glee or despair. He'd greeted his badass, rogue operative of a partner with a joke months ago, and despite the pain in her ribs and the gravity of her plight, she'd still played along with him.

It's when she _stops_ playing along that he knows he should truly worry.

That doesn't mean he's not concerned now – he really, truly is. "Look, Kens…" he starts, dropping the playful tone from his voice; inside, he's hoping that she comes with him down this road he's about to embark along.

She takes a chance and looks up, her gaze quickly finding her partner's ocean blues. And that's when she knows exactly why he's there. And she _hates_ it. He's not there because he'd been concerned about Astrid; he's not there because he'd thought Kensi might want to grab dinner.

Her cheeks flush a bit as she looks away, thankful that the lack of light hides the color. "Hetty told you."

It's not a question – it's a statement. He's surprised to see that she doesn't look angry, though. Not at him, nor at Hetty. Instead, she merely seems…_tired_. He wishes she would face him, wishes she'd let down that final wall and just let him in.

He's still a bit hurt that he'd had to find out from Hetty why Kensi had connected on such a personal level with Astrid. Why hadn't Kensi come to him? Why had she kept him in the dark? He knows there are still _plenty_ of things she hasn't shared with him – hell, he's got skeletons in his own past that he's not looking forward to _anyone_ finding. But this…this is different. If he'd known, he could have been more understanding.

If he'd known, he could have been there, offering her whatever he could give instead of harboring blind concern over the emotions clouding her judgment.

He hesitates a moment too long before answering, just long enough to render the single word a lie…but then again, she'd known the true answer before she'd even brought it up. "No."

Kensi scoffs quietly. "You're lying."

Deeks just shrugs. What else _can_ he do? "Guess that makes two of us, then," he points out quietly.

It's as close to accusing her of _not_ being fine as he'll get, but he doesn't need to be more direct. She knows exactly what he's saying; knows she's not hiding anything from him, no matter how hard she tries. And oh, she's trying. She's trying because right now, this is too much. It's too much to have the demons of her past in front of her, and her partner who is kind and sweet and wonderful and _the only person she trusts_ at her back. Tears and heartache in front of her, emotions she _refuses_ to name behind her, coaxing her to fall with soothing words and strong arms and deep, ocean blue eyes that she thinks she could drown in.

And truly, she can't deny that sometimes, that's _all_ she wants to do. Sometimes, it's irritating that he's always, _always_ there. Even when he's not there, she's getting texts and emails and silly voicemails from him all the time and while it had driven her crazy at first, it's kind of grown on her now. _He's_ grown on her and really, it's not the fact that he went to Vegas without her that had bothered her - he'd invited her, she could have gone. She's the one who turned _him_ down. No, what had bothered her (and still does, really) is that he'd only texted her once. Just once.

She's definitely not going to come out and say she'd _missed_ him to his face, though.

And the thought of him being there with someone else…

A pang of jealousy burns deep in her chest and Kensi squeezes her eyes shut, attempting to force it away. It doesn't go without a fight, though, so instead she tries to guide it into something else. Something less emotional, something she can deal with. Anger is always a good choice, she thinks. Irritation. Annoyance.

She'd felt plenty of those that day in Ops, just before making that second phone call to Astrid, when it had seemed that her partner had thrown her to the wolves. Her partner, who's supposed to back her up every second of every day. Her partner, who is supposed to _trust_ her, no matter what. Her partner, who's supposed to jump with her, not let her jump overboard by herself and then point out that she's in too deep.

He hadn't trusted her judgment.

And of everyone in that room, he'd been the _last_ person she'd expected that from.

Especially when it's painfully obvious that out of all of them, _she's_ the best at remaining objective. She's watched both Sam and Callen get too personally involved in cases; she's watched Deeks do the same. And while Kensi herself can't deny that over the years, a case or two has gotten to her like that (a certain Christmas Eve case involving fake PTSD that had struck too close to home comes immediately to mind), she's always been able to pull herself away.

She's always been able to push forward.

And she's _always_ had the support of her team.

Even with Talbot – Sam had warned her, Callen had suggested she wasn't the right person for the case (much to her irritation because really, she was the _best_ for the case), but Deeks…he'd seized her keys and taken her where she needed to go.

And then with her father's murder…Deeks had let her do what she needed to do. He hadn't _liked_ it, but he'd trusted her enough to let her go.

What had changed since then?

It's the question she's dying to ask him now; it's the question she _needs_ to ask now, but all of the words sound much too weak and petulant in her head. She _can't_ just ask him that. She can't just look him in the eye (_God_, those eyes) and ask him why he'd trusted her when he'd known her mind was on Jack, when he'd known she'd give her life in the pursuit of answers and justice for her father, but when it came to this, when it came to this young girl who could have been _anyone_, why had he questioned her objectivity?

_Why?_

It hurts. It honestly, truly hurts and Kensi's stunned at just how deeply that ache penetrates. And it's that ache, that pain, that sting of almost-betrayal that has her voice sounding nowhere near as strong as she'd like – wavering, even. "You thought I should have taken a step back."

It's meant almost as a jab, a quiet accusation of his lack of trust in her. And it breaks his heart that that's how she sees it, because he _knows_ just what it means to her. What trust means to her. And God, how he wishes she would turn to him so he could show her that wasn't it at all.

He refuses to lie to her for that same reason, though. "Yeah, I did," he murmurs as he slowly approaches her from behind. It's just too much, this distance between them, and he can't handle it any longer. He feels ill at ease when she's far away from him (that's dangerous, he knows, but what can he do?). In the back of his mind, he can't help but think that if he lets her have that distance, she'll take it. She'll take it and disappear, shutting him out and retreating back into a world where she doesn't _need_ a partner.

A world where she doesn't need _him_.

And maybe she doesn't need him.

But he needs her.

He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"If you didn't _trust_ my judgment, you should have said something to _me_," she says with forced calm in her voice.

He won't argue that. "You're right."

Deeks can tell immediately she'd been looking for a fight. She'd been looking for a reason to yell at him, to let the shield of anger protect her from the other emotions flooding through her. He can tell that by the way the wind seems to go out of her sails at his quick acquiescence. And it's even clearer in the way she seems to struggle to right herself again. "Then why _didn't_ you? Why would you…_undermine_ me like that?" she questions. "It's one thing for _you_ not to trust me. But it's entirely different to – to make me look incompetent in front of everyone else."

"Kensi…" He sees her point, but that had been the farthest thing from his mind at the time. "That's not how I meant it," he breathes, touching his fingertips to her elbow. He lets his touch linger, needing the connection, that spark between them. It's become like water to him, this…this _thing_ they have and the fear that she at any moment could just slip right through his fingers…it's terrifying.

It's terrifying to know that his partner is _so_ incredibly adept at fending for herself that she could simply go dark without a word…and if that's how she wanted it, he'd never know.

With Talbot, he'd known where her head was. And even with her father's murder, when she'd adopted Callen's belief that going lone wolf was perfectly acceptable, at least Deeks had known what was going through her mind. He'd known the outcome she'd been fighting for. But with Astrid…he'd been left in the dark. He'd known nothing about the girl; he'd seen no reason for Kensi to, seemingly out of the blue, forge a connection there.

It had led to another tense, silence-filled drive back to Ops – he'd tried to push, but Kensi had closed down. Eyes to the window as he drove, she'd spent the ride lost in thought, not even acknowledging his offer for coffee and doughnuts. He'd fished for information, but Kensi wasn't biting.

He hadn't known _what_ to think…except that something about Astrid had awoken something deep inside of his partner, something had affected her enough to leave her unsettled, completely off balance. And the fact that he hadn't known _anything_, the fact that she wasn't opening any doors to him at all…it had scared him.

It'd scared him, because Kensi is the most cautious, most guarded person he knows when it comes to emotions. She _doesn't_ let them get in the way, ever.

So when she does, and he doesn't know why, well, it terrifies him.

He thinks maybe he might have been a bit out of line – after all, wasn't it usually the team leader's job to decide if one of his team members is too close to a case? If someone needed to step back, it was _Callen's_ job to speak up; it was his job to pull her back.

He hadn't said a word, though. Hadn't even expressed the slightest bit of concern over his junior agent's odd emotional attachment to Astrid. And it _had_ been odd, because other than a photo on the fridge and a bit of blood on Kensi's jacket, there _was_ no connection. There _shouldn't_ have been a connection.

Deeks thinks maybe he should have been reassured by Callen's lack of concern. Because along with it being his job to step in if needed, it's also his job to know exactly what his team can do. And if he didn't have any concerns over Kensi, then no one else should, either.

But then again, Deeks is certain that Callen doesn't know Kensi the way he does.

No one knows her the way he does.

And at the end of the day, he just hadn't wanted her to get hurt.

"How else could you have meant it, Deeks?" she forces out. "Because to them, it sounded like you were saying you couldn't – couldn't trust your partner's judgment."

It's a harsh thing to say, and Deeks can't help but flinch. "I just meant that maybe…" he starts, shaking his head as he struggles with the words. The reasons are there, all in his head, but putting them into words that won't push her away…that's the tricky part. "I just…didn't get what you were seeing. I didn't know why you were so…close to this. I didn't know what it was and I…I was afraid of you taking a shot in the dark when you didn't even _know_ this girl." He pauses, waiting for the protest that never comes. When he continues, his voice is quiet, a low, rumbling whisper meant for her ears only. "I didn't want another…Talbot situation."

"Talbot was a cold, manipulative bastard who used my…who used _me_ to try and get away with murder."

"Exactly."

Her body tenses as she realizes exactly what he's saying. Irritation flares in her because as far as she's concerned, there's really only one point he could make here, and it's the one point that she's completely unwilling to entertain tonight. Maybe she _had_ jumped blindly in; maybe she _had_ let her own emotions and memories override the logical part of her brain, but it's not as if _he's _never found himself in that position. So for him to suggest that she'd gotten too close without considering everything that could have happened, well, it's hypocritical at best, and almost a betrayal at worst – he's her _partner_. He's supposed to be on her side.

With a bit more force than necessary, she closes her locker, darkly pleased with the echo of metal hitting metal that resonates through the empty mission. "In case you didn't notice, Astrid's just an eighteen year old girl, Deeks," she snaps, her voice much harsher than she'd truly intended. She makes no effort to apologize, though, instead choosing to put some more distance between them (and turn her back fully to him) by making her way over to the window.

Deeks tilts his head thoughtfully, relatively unfazed by her tone. "Remind me one day to tell you about Amber Collins," he quips easily. "_She_ was deadly long before eighteen. Black widow, that one. Made a sport out of crushing poor, unsuspecting boys' hearts beneath her high heels."

Kensi rolls her eyes – Deeks _would_ make a joke out of this. And if she weren't already so riled up, with her heart pounding and eyes burning and throat constricting, she'd call him out on that; she'd tell him that if he'd had his heart crushed by this girl in high school, he'd likely deserved it. In fact, she'd bet money on it.

But for now, she refuses to play that game with him. "She was in over her head, Deeks. She was _scared_."

Her voice wavers a tiny bit, but it the sound is deafening to Kensi's own ears. She swallows hard, hating herself for the lump in her throat – it _hurts_ to draw these parallels between Astrid and her own teenage self. It _hurts _to find herself once more drowning in the pain she thought she'd put to rest twice in her life already – the first time as a kid, the second as she'd sat on the beach, her father's journal in her hands.

It hurts – _God_, it hurts, and she'd avoided going home because she'd known these thoughts would conquer her there.

And _damn_ her partner for making her think about it all anyway. _Damn him_.

Taking a deep breath, Kensi clenches her fists briefly before continuing, forcing the words to leave her lips. "Her mom died, and her dad…well, he's not going to be around for awhile." She pauses, digging her teeth into her lower lip. "She was…on her own, Deeks. She didn't – she doesn't have anywhere to go. Doesn't have anyone to go to. And I just…I didn't want her to think that she had no one. I didn't want her to think that, just because she _can_ take care of herself, that it means she _has_ to. And I'm sorry if you thought that clouded my judgment, but I just didn't want her to feel…alone."

"Like you were?"

It's an assumption on his part, really. Knowing no more than what he'd gleaned both from Hetty's revelation of his partner's past and from Kensi's clear desire to connect on some level with the girl, Deeks knows he's reaching because for all he knows, maybe Kensi _wanted_ to be alone. Maybe his tough, powerful, strong-willed partner never needed anyone, never _wanted_ anyone.

If that were the case, though, he doubts she would have reacted to Astrid's plight the way she had.

And her silence now only cements that.

His words echo in her ears and for a moment, she wishes she could run. She wishes she could put on a smile and walk away, as if nothing had happened. As if Astrid hadn't taken her back to her own teenage years; as if she wasn't feeling that same loneliness weighing her down now.

And really, it hits her much harder than she thinks it should. It's cold and harsh and even though her attempt at distancing herself had failed and he's once again close enough to her that she can feel his heat, it doesn't stop the icy tendrils of loneliness from wrapping around her, trapping her, piercing through her skin and to the very heart of her.

On some level, it's silly, she thinks. She's a fun person; she knows she's not bad-looking – it's never been hard for her to find a warm body to share her bed for the night. But that, those mindless connections without _a_ connection…at the time, it'd been enough, but in the end, they'd only distracted her for the moment. She's been running from this feeling since she was fifteen and so incredibly alone; now, it's caught up to her and it's just as powerful as it'd been back then.

It's just as powerful, but Kensi's not as strong. Not tonight.

And she hates herself for that, because the last person she wants to fall apart in front of is her partner. She doesn't want to break in front of _anyone_; she doesn't want to break at all, because that's nothing but weakness, and Kensi Blye, since the day she was born, has _always_ been anything but weak.

"That's what it was, wasn't it?" Deeks murmurs, silently praying that she doesn't close down on him now. "You saw yourself in her, didn't you."

It's not really question- Kensi knows he already knows the answer. "I saw this girl who looked so…_lost_," she whispers, fighting valiantly against the sting of tears in her eyes. "I chased her down to the train tracks – she'd hopped the fence to the other side, and when – when I called out to her, she stopped _on_ the tracks and just…stared at me."

Her eyes close as the memory floods her, and really, it's not something she can describe. When her gaze had locked with Astrid's, even from so far away, Kensi had _felt_ something. She'd heard the train coming, but even if she'd tried to move, she's not sure she could have managed it because something in that teenage girl's eyes had left her frozen, unable to do more than watch as Astrid backed slowly away from the tracks. The entire time, her gaze had never strayed from Kensi's.

In that one moment, memories Kensi had sworn she'd locked away years ago came flooding fiercely back to the front of her mind, bringing with them all the emotions she'd never truly faced. Emotions she'd hidden away and ignored, praying that time would be the only balm her soul needed in order to heal.

But in the end, though, she'd never truly healed.

She'd run from the tears, the heartache, the pain. She'd tried to escape, going so far as to abandon everything she'd had, everything she was. She'd thrown herself into a routine that never slowed; she'd jumped headfirst into whirlwind relationships that were never any good for her aside from the momentary distraction they provided until she grew restless again…and then she was on the run again.

She'd taken to the streets for a year, always moving, never slowing down, wishing desperately to be found but dreading it at the same time. It'd been the coldest, darkest year of her life. Kensi had cut off ties with her mother, only to have her father ripped brutally from the bounds of life. She'd had _no one_ to turn to. Many had reached out, sure, but they just hadn't understood. They didn't _get_ it, and really, it only insulted her, _infuriated_ her that they should dare to even try.

It had been _so_ very hard to wake up every morning, knowing it would only be another day spent crushed beneath the heavy weight of loneliness. She'd barely been able to breathe; could hardly stand on her own in the midst of heartache that threatened to rip her petite, sixteen year old frame to shreds, leaving the pieces strewn so far apart that she'd never reassemble them all.

So many nights spent crying herself to sleep, wishing the tears would simply drown her and release her from that neverending agony, the sheer hollowness, the all-consuming emptiness. So many long, dark, bitterly cold nights that gave way to days that were no better as the blinding sun burned her eyes but failed to warm the rest of her.

And every night and every day had been exactly the same…until the day Jack had walked into her life. He'd been her saving grace; he'd pulled her from the depths and for the first time since she'd been fifteen, Kensi had felt alive again. Alive, free, _happy_.

But just as easily as he'd walked into her life, Jack had disappeared without a trace, leaving her painfully and undeniably alone once more. And this time, after she'd had a taste of happiness only to have it torn furiously from her grasp, the heartache was even more crushing.

_No matter what they say, they'll always leave._

_Always_.

It's then that she's pulled from her memories by the gentle press of lips against her temple. Not once, but twice her partner brushes a kiss to her skin, the gesture so heartachingly tender that it breaks down what little defense she'd managed to keep. He whispers her name, the warm rush of his breath tickling her skin, and that's what coaxes the first of the tears to splash upon her cheeks. "She – she looked so scared…" she breathes, feeling Deeks' arms embrace her from behind.

She's trembling now, filled to the brim with tension coiled as tightly as possible, waiting to spring free at any moment. And that's exactly what part of her wants to do – she wants to squirm her way out of his arms; she wants to fight him away and run, run, _run _because it's how she's always survived; because it's better than waiting for _him_ to leave. If she makes her escape first, then _he_ can't leave _her_.

But at the same time, she's _so_ very tired and so very drained, and _God_, she can't deny that for once, it would feel _so_ good to stop struggling to keep her walls from falling…and instead let Deeks' strong arms protect her, at least for a bit.

It's such an absurd thought to cross Kensi's mind, because she _doesn't_ need anyone to protect her. She doesn't need him to guard her while she repairs her own defenses. No. That's just not who Kensi is.

And yet, she wants it. God, she wants it.

She wants it because without her permission and before she could stop it, Astrid had opened up the long-forgotten (or so Kensi had believed) Pandora's box of her past, forcing her to relive those terrifying years, the emotions that clouded her own late youth. They're so similar to the emotions she'd felt far too recently as she'd gone after her father's killer…and yet, at the same time, they're _nothing_ like that.

They're nothing like that because _those_ emotions had been fueled by rage, by the desire for revenge, for closure, for answers.

But these emotions?

They're tearing her apart.

They're everything she'd felt back then, when she'd been no more than a lonely girl against the world. They're everything she'd felt when not even the man who'd pledged his life to her had stuck around in the end.

And everything she'd felt back then, all of those feelings of aloneness and brokenness and a piercing pain so deep that she'd had no idea how she could ever recover…everything she'd felt back then, Kensi had seen it in Astrid's lost yet defiant gaze.

She was strong.

But she was alone.

And the only companion she'd had was the gripping, _sickening_ fear that she would _forever_ remain alone, not a single soul entwined with hers in any truly meaningful way.

At fifteen, filled with grief and sorrow and anger and confusion; with despair and heartache and agony beyond _anything_ she'd ever felt before, Kensi had run from that fear, only for it to catch up with her by nightfall, each and every night.

Everyone who gets close, _everyone_…they're either taken away from her or she succeeds in pushing them away so they _cant_ be taken from her.

The youth in Astrid's eyes had awakened her to the cold truth: Kensi's been doing that for _years_.

And really, it's hurt no less than the alternative.

And she's _still_ just as alone.

She doesn't want to end up alone.

She doesn't want to _be_ alone.

She doesn't want to _die_ alone.

And that's the fear that finally breaks her.

Almost as if sensing it, Deeks gently spins her, the whisper of her name slipping from his lips. She doesn't fight him, not now, and by the time the tears slip from her eyes and her body begins to tremble, her face is buried against his chest and his arms are tight around her in an embrace he's wanted to give her for months. She doesn't sob openly. She doesn't break into an inconsolable mess, clutching to her partner as if he's the only lifeline she has (though if she needed that, he'd give it in a heartbeat). But the tears are there; they're there and real and Deeks can feel them soaking into the material of his shirt, and it simply _kills _him. It kills him that his strong, beautiful partner can be harboring so much pain, hidden away so deep inside.

He knows a bit, after all, about despair, about unhappiness, about emptiness. To think of her _ever_ feeling anything like that…well, it's not something he's okay with, that's for sure.

He's still holding her long after the tears subside, long after her body relaxes into his, and really, Deeks isn't sure at all how much time has passed. It's just not important – this moment could be one second or it could be a million seconds. What matters is the feeling of having her in his arms, the fingers of one hand clutched in his shirt. What matters is the gentle, sweet scent of her shampoo as he nuzzles softly into her hair, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. What matters is the quiet sigh he hears when he whispers what he knows to be the absolute truth to her.

And as far as he's concerned, what matters the most is that she _knows_, beyond any doubts, that it's the truth. He's not going anywhere. "She's not going to be alone, you know," he breathes, pausing for a long beat before he adds the deeper, heavier part. "And you're not, either."

His conviction scares her, but at the same time, it makes her shiver. It makes her shiver because this connection, the one she's denied herself for so damn long…it just feels _so_ incredibly good. And really, it's terrifying to think that, even with every boundary she put in place, every line she refused to let him cross with her, he's still managed to weasel his way into her life to a point that she can't even imagine not having that. Not having _him_ around.

_Him._

Her breath catches with the realization and for a moment, she's truly dizzied (though his arms around her now would stop her from falling). Suddenly, Astrid's innocent question echoes back to her, and Kensi's heart is racing again, though for much different reasons than before. She's almost certain he can feel it too, as hard as it beats against the wall of her chest.

For a few moments, she simply closes her eyes and breathes, concentrating on the warmth of his arms, the quiet whisper of his voice, and just the very scent of him, that intoxicating, masculine scent that at some point in the past two years she's begun to associate with protection, with safety.

There'd been no one she would have rather seen when she'd gone rogue a few months back, when she'd chased down Peter Clairmont, seeking out revenge for her father's murder. There'd been no one else she would have trusted to let her keep going; no one else who would have understood just how badly she _had_ needed to keep going. She'd needed to see it through, all the way to the possibility of a bloody, horrific end.

He'd been the one she'd reached out to when it seemed she was at the end of the road; she hadn't been able to find her own, but his…_oh_ his voice. His voice, even from miles away had been all the strength she'd needed, even if she'd never truly been able to find the words to thank him for that. For being there, just a phone call away. Always.

He's always had her back. He's been her rock; he's been the one person she can count on to save her every time, whether that means he's calling her with an absurd emergency he's made up in response to a quick _save me from this date_ text, or that he's taking her hands and pulling her from a room of lasers that quickly incinerates behind them.

Even when she's asked him to leave…

Even when she's pushed and snapped and even refused to answer her phone…he's been _right there_ all along, oftentimes at her door the very next morning with coffee and doughnuts.

To lose that…to lose _him_…it would crush her.

Just the idea makes her ache and, here with his arms around her, with her deepest, most secret fear laid bare for him to see, lost in his scent and the gentle sway of their bodies, she holds on to him just a little bit tighter.

When at long last she sighs and starts to pull away from him, he lets her, even though letting go is the _last_ thing he wants to do. He's relieved, though, to see a shadow of her typical spark again, the playful defiance, the fighting spirit that defines her. And when she speaks, breaking the silence, her playful quip proves that, despite the hand she lifts to her eyes, brushing at the lingering moisture, she's still herself; she's still _his_ Kensi. "If you tell Callen and Sam about this, I swear I'll kill you," she quips quietly, wiping quickly at her eyes.

Deeks snickers. She _knows_ he'd never, but it's just the threat she'd make in order to lighten the air between them. "Please," he murmurs, grinning slightly. "Considering how much blackmail material you've got on _me_?"

She smiles, and oh, how Deeks revels in seeing that. "That's true, there's a lot," she agrees. Her smile fades slightly then, but rather than question her, Deeks merely waits until she glances downward, pursing her lips before a quiet apology falls from her lips. "I'm sorry I kept you in the dark before," she murmurs, knowing he wishes she'd look at him. She can't, though. She simply can't.

He just shakes his head. "It's okay," he says, feeling his heart break at the image in front of him. Her eyes are red, filled with emotion and he knows she hates herself for showing it, but really, the fact that she _is_ showing it makes her just that much more beautiful to him.

She doesn't accept his simple answer, which surprises him a bit. If she wanted to drop it, he would. He wants her to be open with him; he wants her to trust him; he wants her to let him be there for her, but at the end of the day, what's most important is that she doesn't _hurt_. He could wish for a million things in this partnership, but if he could only have one thing, it would be that. "No, I should have told you," she continues, exhaling deeply. "It, uh, it was pertinent to the case. It…explained a lot. I knew my…my own past was affecting how I saw Astrid, and I should have at least…I don't know, said _something_."

He's not entirely sure what makes him do it; in fact, he's pretty sure it just automatically happens – it's instinctual, something he's not sure he could have stopped if he'd tried. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against her forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. "I'm your partner, Kens," he breathes, hearing the quietest of sighs slip from her lips. It makes him want to pull her close again, to pull her into his embrace and never let go. It makes him wish he could shield her, _protect_ her from everything that could ever hurt her…which is admittedly a bit ridiculous because Kensi Blye – strong, tough, _beautiful_ Kensi Blye, is the last person who would ever need to be protected (and Deeks is sure that anybody stupid enough to even _suggest_ such a thing aloud would be finding out very quickly just who actually _does_ need protecting.

He offers her a smile, waits for her eyes to meet his before he continues, his voice a mere whisper in the minute space between them. "I'm your partner," he repeats, the warmth of his breath dancing across her skin, setting her aflame way, _way_ more than she thinks it probably should. "You can tell me _anything_…but I understand why you didn't."

She nods slowly, unable to put into words just how much that means. And she knows he means it by the look in his deep blue eyes, those eyes that seem to penetrate to her very soul no matter how much she tries to fight it.

And God, it's this moment that she wishes, _oh_ how she wishes that she didn't know how it felt to kiss him. It's now that she wishes she didn't know how his lips felt on hers, that she didn't know how the gentle scratch of his scruff felt against her face, that she didn't know exactly how he tastes.

She wishes she didn't know _any_ of that, because she thinks maybe if she didn't, maybe she wouldn't want it _so_ _badly_ now. For a single, spur-of-the-moment kiss meant solely to keep their cover, Kensi's certainly having a hell of a time forgetting about it in moments like this, when she finds he's gotten a little closer to her than she should have allowed.

_So_ dangerous, these thoughts. These desires.

Swallowing hard, Kensi attempts to calm her racing heart, trying to dispel from her memory the remnants of their time together as Melissa and Justin. She's almost managed to succeed when she feels his thumb trace gently over her cheek, and _damn it_, but she thinks maybe she whimpers just a tiny bit.

She _hates_ having her emotions in such a manic state of disarray.

And yet, surprisingly, she finds that maybe she doesn't mind it so much with Deeks. And maybe, just maybe, it's easier to let him in than it is to fight.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, breaking through the haze that clouds her mind. Kensi can do little more than nod right now, and she thinks it should irritate her that he gives her such a knowing grin in return. It doesn't, though. It doesn't, and she finds her own lips curving upward as his palm rests at her cheek for brief, much too fleeting moment before another question leaves his lips on a quiet breath of air. "Can I take you home?"

Deeks fully expects her to say no. He expects her to shake her head and decline, maybe even say she's fine (he still wouldn't believe it, but he thinks he'd come closer to believing it now than earlier) and, maybe if he's lucky, perhaps even thank him. But what he doesn't expect is what he gets.

After all, he's asked her a handful of times in the past, only for the same response.

But something about this time is different. Something about this time, perhaps it's the raw emotion coursing through her veins; perhaps it's the sting of loneliness that he knows not even agents with the hardest of hearts can escape at all times…whatever it is, it has his partner giving him a slow nod, a silent acceptance of what little bit of comfort he can offer.

It may not be much, but at least he can do _something_. And more than that, at least she's _letting_ him, because he can't really say he's ready to go home alone either…and there's really no one else he'd rather be with. "I, uh, thought maybe we could grab a pizza or something. Maybe doughnuts, if you're in that kind of mood. Or both. Yeah, probably both, right? Maybe we should get some ice cream too."

A small smile tugs at her lips – oh, how well he knows her. He knows she'll let him take her home; he knows she'll let him buy her junk food, or more appropriately tonight, comfort food. But he doesn't necessarily expect the reply he gets (though God, he'd hoped for something similar). "I'd like that," she says softly, hesitating for but a moment before turning away, her footsteps carrying her toward his desk. She retrieves his keys and effortlessly tosses them to him; he catches them easily with a smile. "And I, uh…"

She shrugs, biting her lip to hide a grin as he approaches her, his keys jingling in his hand. "I've got a full season of the Real Housewives saved up on the DVR," she finishes coyly.

"Oh dear _God," _he groans, playfully rolling his eyes even as he drapes an arm around her shoulders. "What have I done to deserve _that?_"

She snickers, but quite contentedly leans into him and back into the comfort of their usual playful banter as he leads her out of the bullpen. The ache is still there, but the teasing back-and-forth that defines them is perhaps the greatest salve for even the deepest of her wounds. "You didn't take me to Vegas…"

"I _knew_ you were lying when you said you were over Vegas," Deeks replies. "And you're gonna make me pay for it until the day I die, aren't you?"

Kensi smirks. "Oh, you can bet on that, Shaggy."

"Lucky me," Deeks drawls, a smile at his lips. "Lucky me."

It's never actually spoken, but the deeper meaning in their playful banter doesn't go unnoticed by either of them. She's _completely_ over Vegas - well okay, maybe not _completely…_but hey, if he wants to spend every day for the rest of his life making up for it, she's oddly okay with that. More than okay; more than happy, though she won't admit it aloud.

And Deeks…well, he just prays she's keeps her word there, because every day she expect him to make it up to her is one more day that she wants him to _be_ there. It's one more day that she wants him to stick around, one more day that she wants to _trust _him to be there.

He knows it's a huge gamble for her, a risky roll of the dice with nothing less than her heart on the line.

If she's willing to take that chance with him, in _any_ capacity, he's all in.

And Marty Deeks plays to win.


End file.
